A Letter of Divine Compassion
You are of the earth, my child.
Dirt infused with minerals and ancient wisdom support your every footstep.
Rambling vines of the woods weave themselves into the threads of your windblown mane – calling you back into the fold.
As the earth rumbles, moans and shifts you feel her. You are the moss, rock, clay, and timber. You are the bubbling stream that feeds the river brining sustenance to her people. You are the water that swells in the ocean and the deep caverns below yet to see light. You are the in-between that connects earth and sky.
You are the weather – dynamic and supportive. In a flash of brilliance, you ignite the evening sky, lending contrast to light, dark, and the mystical residence of what lingers within the middle world. You are the rain that falls upon this planet – As a sacred cycle of nourishment – we drink and bathe in these holy waters and feel the invitation tug upon us – to allow ourselves to be like water – fluid, full-bodied and free.
You are the innate genius of the tiny seed that sleeps silently in the womb of its becoming, all winter long. You are the life force of potential that pulsates upward, breaking ground after the thaw, to bring renewal and hope in another season.
As the earth turns, the seas rise and the sun shines – we are intricately laced with stardust and pollen.
We are of the earth, my child.
We are one with the stars and sea.
Blessed be.
Blessed be.
Blessed be.
Nicole Hendrick Donovan, July 2021